


I'd Run Away

by Magnolia822



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Parenting, Choices, First Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at the Teen Wolf Ficathon: peter hale/chris argent au in which they're hopelessly in love, teenagers and reckless... until gerard finds out, threatens peter's life, and chris decides to choose a side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Run Away

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.  
> This fic is unbetaed, so you can blame it all on me.

  
“Whose car is this?” Chris asks, crossing his arms as Peter grins at him from the driver’s seat of an unknown ’83 Chevy, license plate Utah.  
  
“I borrowed it.”  
  
“Borrowed it? You mean you stole it.”  
  
Peter shrugs, smiles. “I’ll give it back in a bit. Come on. Hop in, sunshine.”  
  
Chris sighs, takes a minute to look at his boyfriend. He’s always doing things like this, and one of these days it’s going to get them both into trouble. Like today (and they’ve discussed this before), Peter is never, ever to come to Chris’s house because if Chris’s father ever finds out it will be the end of them, maybe even the end of Peter. Luckily, at the moment Gerard is out on a hunt; but of course Peter probably already knew that. He knows all kinds of things, can sense them—he has this way of sneaking around town unnoticed that used to drive Chris crazy until he realized what Peter really wanted was to sneak into Chris’s room and have his not-so-evil way with him. If there’s one advantage to dating a werewolf when your father is a hunter, it’s that werewolves are very hard to catch.  
  
“I can’t stay out long. Dad’ll be back tonight,” Chris says as he starts to walk toward the car.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be home in time. Come on—time’s wasting!” Peter is drumming his hand against the side of the car, gorgeous as always with his wolfish grin and crazy hair. His eyes crinkle as he leans across to unlock the passenger door.  
  
“Hey, sunshine,” Peter says, still close when Chris slides inside. Immediately, all of his worries about his father and his fucked up family history evaporate, and there’s just Peter, filing the space with his energy, his _life_ —God, it’s like being in the car with a hurricane or a fucking rainbow.  
  
“Missed you.” Peter sniffs at Chris’s hair, snuffles into his neck, and it tickles. Chris pushes him away, laughing, but he loves it, loves that Peter likes his smell and wants it first thing when they’re together.  
  
“We’ve got to get out of here. You know you . . .”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says as he throws the gear into drive. “I know.”  
  
They drive for about an hour before Chris asks where they’re going.  
  
“Someplace.”  
  
“Someplace? Could you be any more annoyingly vague?”  
  
“You’ll like it. Relax, sunshine. And hey, c’mere. You’re too far away.” Peter gestures with his arm, patting the space next to him—it’s a bench seat, and now that they’re far away from town and anyone they might know, Chris assents. He unbuckles himself and slides across so that his thigh is pressed up against Peter’s. Peter grins, throws his arm around Chris’s shoulders.  
  
They talk about lacrosse, college prospects, both of them doing everything they can to avoid the one topic they’ll never agree on. It feels good like this, perfect, like they could just keep driving and never go back to Beacon Hills. Peter drives with his arm propped lazily against the open window. He’s so in control, so confident, so unflappable. Chris wants to see what he can do to ruffle that composure.  
  
Heart beating faster, Chris runs a hand up Peter’s thigh, right to the bulge of his crotch, and squeezes. The car swerves.  
  
“Don’t crash, okay?” Chris whispers, placing a soft kiss against Peter’s neck.  
  
“I’m not gonna crash. Just . . . keep touching me.”  
  
It takes a little bit of manoeuvring, but somehow they’re able to get Peter unzipped and free from his jeans without major incident. His erection is thick, already purpling at the tip; the humid air fills with his musky scent. Chris’s mouth waters as he gives it a pump, running his thumb over the wet slit. When did he become such a cockslut?  
  
“You gonna suck it or look at it?” Peter teases, the hoarseness in his voice giving him away.  
  
“Don’t get so impatient, _sunshine_ , or no road head for you.”  
  
Chris scoots over to give himself some room and leans down to take Peter’s cock into his mouth, sucking it just the way he knows Peter likes, using plenty of saliva, working his hand around the shaft. In just minutes Peter is whimpering, thrusting up into Chris’s mouth and using the hand he’s not driving with to guide Chris’s head.  
  
This is the moment he loves—the moment just before Peter comes. It’s the only time Peter is truly _his,_ mind, body, and soul. The cock in his mouth hardens even more, getting thicker against his tongue, and then starts to spurt salty-bitter down his throat. He takes it greedily, sucking Peter deep, swallowing around him. Peter groans, sounds like he’s on the verge of wolfing out.  
  
Afterwards, Chris has to get off, uses his hand while Peter watches, one eye on the road.  
  


  


*****

The place Peter takes him is a swimming hole with a thirty-foot waterfall; it’s in the middle of the woods, and no one is around except for them, which is good, because neither of them has a suit. They swim naked, scale the slippery rocks and jump, screaming every time they hit the water because it’s fucking freezing. After a while Chris worries his balls are retracting into his body.  
  
Panting, he climbs out of the water and stretches out next to Peter, sunning himself on a giant boulder until his extremities begin to thaw.  
  
“Used to come out here with my dad,” Peter says quietly. His face is serious as he gazes down at Chris, and Chris’s heart starts pounding like it always does—Peter just has that effect on him.  
  
“Oh yeah?” He waits, wondering if Peter will go on. He never talks about his father, but Chris knows he’s dead and has been for some time. Sometimes he wonders if his family had anything to do with it.  
  
But all Peter says is, “yeah.”  
  
Later, when they get back to the car, Peter presses him up against the passenger door and kisses the hell out of him, their mouths clashing messy together, hands groping.  
  
“What was that for?” Chris asks, panting when they break apart. There’s something almost desperate in Peter’s eyes, something that scares him.  
  
“’Cause I felt like it, sunshine.” Peter swats him on the ass, and the moment is broken.  
  
They drive home in silence. All Chris can think of is how much he wants to tell Peter he loves him. They’ve never said it out loud, but he thinks Peter feels the same way about him. He’s sure of it, sometimes, like when Peter takes his hand and kisses his knuckles one-by-one. Or when Peter watches him in his sleep.  
  
When they get to the end of Chris’s street, though, and Peter pulls the car over to let him out, he can’t seem to get the words out. Just leans over and kisses Peter one last time, tells him he’ll keep his window open.  
  
Shit, he's late. Gerard’s car is in the drive when Chris arrives. He tries to make a beeline up the stairs to avoid questioning, but his father is too fast.  
  
“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice freezes him in his tracks. It’s so filled with rage, there can only be one reason.  
  
He turns back and faces his father.  
  
“You think I’m blind, boy?” Gerard nearly spits the words. Chris’s blood runs cold when he notices there's a revolver pointed at his chest. “He bite you?”  
  
“No, no sir.” He straightens despite the fact he’s weak with fear; his father would put a bullet in him if he thought he’d gotten the bite. It’s the Argent way.  
  
“I never thought I’d live to see the day when my son, my _son,_ would consort with the enemy.”  
  
Bristling, Chris takes a few steps down toward his father, gripping his hands into fists. “Peter is not the enemy. You don't know him. He's never hurt anyone.” He can't even believe he's saying the words: a year ago, such a thought would have been unconscionable. But Peter has changed all that, shown him that wolves can be more than monsters, can love.  
  
“He’s got you so fooled. Do you think for one minute he would choose you over his _pack_?” Gerard spits the word, and Chris hates himself because his father’s words have their intended effect. For a moment, he doubts.  
  
“You see that devil again, he’s dead. You know I mean it. Your place is here with your family, and we live by the Code.”  
  
Chris’s heart stops beating. The devil isn’t in Peter, it’s in his father’s eyes—there’s no feeling there, no emotion except for hatred. And Chris realizes he’s been a fool. A stupid, romantic, reckless fool.  
  
Of course Peter won’t understand. Peter will hate him.  
  
But that’s the risk Chris will have to take. He won't let the devil get Peter.


End file.
